


Hockey Butts

by Sproings



Series: Hockey Butts [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproings/pseuds/Sproings
Summary: Steve slips on the ice, and Bucky takes care of him.This was supposed to be about hockey, and instead I ended up with 4000 words lovingly describing Steve's butt.  I have very few regrets.Happy birthday machine_dove!





	Hockey Butts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [machine_dove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/machine_dove/gifts).



"It's fine. I'm fine," Steve said immediately, which...was not a great sign.

Nutmeg, the cat they were supposed to be saving, chose that moment to crash out of the bush she'd been hiding in. She sprinted right across Steve's prone body and into the apartment building, where their elderly neighbor Miss Lorraine was waiting for her, probably with hot chocolate or something equally ridiculous.

Flipping off a cat would be childish and immature. That wouldn't usually slow Bucky down, but Steve was still sprawled all over the ice-coated front steps, and he wasn't laughing or complaining. Bucky had been his boyfriend long enough to know that he should be doing both.

Bracing his feet on a dry patch, Bucky held tight to the stair railing and offered his hand.

Steve accepted the help, another bad sign, but he pulled himself up with minimal grinding of teeth and grabbed onto a section of railing so he wouldn't wipe out all over again.

A deep and abiding love for Steve was the only thing that kept Bucky from wondering aloud whether the metal was strong enough to support their combined weight. The old wrought iron was pretty and all, especially when it was shimmering with icicles, but it hadn't exactly been designed with professional athletes in mind.

But Steve always frowned at negative thinking, so instead Bucky said, "Is it your back?"

"Uh, no," Steve said, gingerly making his way up the front steps. "It's...my back's alright."

"Shit, is it your leg? It's not broken, is it? You shouldn't be walking on it if--"

"Nothing's broken."

They'd gotten into the lobby by then, and the carpeting made the footing much less treacherous, but Steve was still walking very carefully. "Then what...Oh honey no, not your sweet little ass!"

"Shhhh!!" Steve spun on him, and sucked in a breath between his teeth, clutching gently at his backside as he winced in pain, which didn't stop him from whispering fiercely, "We have neighbors."

"Oh don't mind me," called Miss Lorraine from her doorway, with a wide smile that showed all of her dentures. "I was in the Army, I've heard it all. You two better come in here so we can rub some arnica on that."

Rubbing Steve's ass was a worthy goal, one that Miss Lorraine had been working toward since before Bucky moved in with him, but they didn't intend to let her achieve it. He herded Steve toward the elevator and waved Miss Lorraine off. "He's the best D-man in the league ma'am, he can take a hit. And I'm sure you have your hands full with Nutmeg."

"We appreciate the offer, but I'm fine," Steve added, in that wide-eyed way that meant he was lying, probably about both subjects.

Bucky pushed the call button for the elevator and planted himself in front of Steve, because he knew damn well that he was dumb enough to try to use the stairs if it meant he could escape sooner.

Miss Lorraine inched out her door toward them. "In that case you should come in for some nice hot apple cider with Nutmeg. As our way of saying thanks."

"We couldn't possibly--"

"Knowing she's home safe is thanks enough," Bucky said, with as much charm as he knew how to convey.

Thankfully the elevator doors slid open just then, so Bucky gave Steve a shove in that direction.

"Holler if you need anything, boys!"

Bucky yelled over his shoulder, "We sure will ma'am."

Steve hit the button to close the doors and grumbled, "No we won't."

"No, we won't." Bucky glanced over to see Steve frowning around at his own butt. The bad signs kept piling up, and he couldn't tell if he was okay without getting him talking. "Remember that time in the playoffs when Barton checked you into the boards so hard that he hurt _himself?_ Is this twice as bad, or three times?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, Barnes."

That was a good sign. Bucky pouted at him. "Aww, baby don't be like that. I'm distressed, my favorite tushie is all beat up. You want me to hold it for you, keep it from falling off?"

"You're hilarious."

Very good sign. "Can I kiss it all better?"

Steve folded his arms over his chest. "You keep chirping me, you're never gonna get to kiss it again."

"Damn darlin', that is harsh." Bucky sidled up against him and hooked an arm around his waist. "How about I chirp you a little more and you let me give it half a kiss?"

"Nope." He raised his eyebrow in a challenge, and there was no way he'd be backing down.

"Well shit. Guess I'll be good, 'cause it'd be a shame for the most beautiful backside in the world to go unkissed."

"Bucky..."

"That was not chirping, that was the absolute goddamn truth."

Steve shook his head but he didn't argue it any further. Probably because he didn't want Bucky to google 'Steve Roger's butt'. Again.

Bucky had won a surprising number of arguments that way.

They got inside their apartment without further incident, except that Steve leaned into Bucky the whole way, and Bucky's mind chanted _bad sign bad sign._

Steve grunted as he bent to take his boots off, so Bucky knelt down and untied them and pulled them off for him.

"You're the best," said Steve. He smiled, soft and easy, and tugged lovingly at Bucky's hair.

Bucky shook his head as he got to his feet. "Yeah, I'm a regular teddy bear."

 _"My_ teddy bear." Steve pulled Bucky into his arms and nuzzled at his neck.

"Bedroom," Bucky said, and he absolutely did not giggle from the way Steve's breath tickled against him. "Come on. You won't want to sit down for a while."

He turned in Steve's arms rather than letting go, and they waddled to the bedroom all wrapped up together. Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but he loved it just the same.

He tugged the covers straighter on the bed. He wasn't looking forward to this next bit. "You want me to call Sam for you?"

Steve snorted.

Bucky pulled out his phone. "Steve. You know the rules."

"You've gotta be kidding."

He was not kidding. At all. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Steve to realize it.

Steve crossed his arms too. "I'm not going to make Sam come all the way across town in this weather just to look at my butt."

They wouldn't have been in this situation if Steve hadn't gone out in the middle of an ice storm for a much dumber reason, but Bucky was nice enough not to point that out. "He doesn't have to, we'll text him. Let's see it."

"What?"

Bucky held up his phone and jiggled it. "Drop your pants, sugar. It's picture time."

"No!"

"Yes. It's either that or he risks life and limb. Like you did for Nutmeg."

"Christ." Steve turned a really luscious shade of pink and eased his jeans off. He was wearing navy blue briefs underneath, and he winced as he hiked them up.

Bucky's breath caught as Steve peered around, arching his back and tugging his briefs higher and tighter, trying to show his entire left ass cheek. God that was a good look. Steve's body was one of the natural wonders of the goddamn world.

Bucky sighed. "You've got the ass of an angel."

"Yeah well there'd better not be pictures of it all over Twitter tomorrow," Steve muttered, still fussing with his underpants, to no real effect other than making Bucky's fingers twitch with want.

"Jesus Steve, don't you trust me at all? I'm classier than that. I'd post 'em on Instagram."

Steve huffed, trying to cover up a laugh, and twisted around a little further.

Bucky couldn't resist anymore. He set his hand on Steve's shoulder and slipped it down, over his back, around to his hip, catching his fingertips under the waistband of his briefs. He whispered in Steve's ear, "I think you're gonna have to take these off."

Steve leaned back to press his shoulders into Bucky's chest. "You know, we don't have to tell Sam about any of this. We could find something else to do."

"Mmm." Bucky slid his hand around Steve's waist to pull him closer, then ran his hand up his abs, to the swell of his pectoral muscle, cupping him there and running his thumb over his nipple.

With his other thumb, he typed out a quick message to Sam.

Steve sighed and tilted his hips back, not quite smothering a hiss of pain at the contact of his ass against Bucky's thigh.

Bucky brought the phone around where Steve could see it, and hit send just as Steve said, "Hey!"

The blue bubble on the screen read, _'Steve's hurt, says we don't need to tell you'._

Sam must have already been using his phone, because the typing bubbles appeared almost immediately. When the message finally came through, it said, _'Like hell you don't, you know the rules'._

They certainly ought to know the rules. Steve was the one who'd inspired them, or so Bucky had been told. The legend of his epic barfight was passed down to every incoming player, along with their very own paper copy of The Rules.

The Rules included everything from "Put away your fucking jockstraps you filthy bastards," to "All-you-can-eat is not a challenge, don't bankrupt any restaurants," but they started with the all important Founding Rules.

The Founding Rules were absolute and irrevocable. They went like this:

1) Don't start bar fights.

2) If you must start a bar fight, call for backup first.

3) If you start a bar fight, and you don't call for backup, do not get your fool self injured.

4) If you do get your fool self injured, call your fucking team captain immediately. Do not judge for yourself that you are fine. Especially if you are Steve Rogers.

After that came a detailed list of consequences for breaking any (or all) of The Founding Rules. Especially if you were Steve Rogers.

Bucky wasn't a dedicated rule follower or anything, but he did believe there were some rules that really should be followed. Especially if...

Yeah.

Bucky's phone rang, and Steve gave a whiny groan and said, "You talk to him."

"Alright sugar, I'll protect you." He answered the phone before Steve could come up with a retort, putting it on speaker. "Hey Sam."

"Tell me what happened," Sam demanded.

"He slipped on the front steps, fell down."

"Before he gets up, ask if he can feel his fingers and toes and all."

Steve and Bucky blinked owlishly at each other.

"He already got up," Sam said. "Of course he did. You're both idiots."

"No, Bucky's just overreacting. I'm f--"

"Rule number four, asshole. Did you hit your head?"

"Nope."

"Barnes, check around in his hair, see if he flinches."

Bucky handed over his phone and started gently skritching Steve's scalp. There wasn't any flinching. Instead, the tension seemed to ease out of Steve's shoulders, and his eyes fell closed, and Bucky might have checked a little more thoroughly than was strictly necessary.

"Barnes?"

"Oh. Yeah, no bumps or anything," Bucky said, still skritching away. "He actually landed on his ass. Should I feel that up too?"

"Goddammit, is this another fucking set up to make me talk about Steve's ass? Everyone knows it's a beaut, there are entire blogs dedicated--"

"No!" Steve yelled, surprised it was even a question. Sam usually trusted Steve. Unless Bucky was involved.

Bucky didn't blame him. He knew he was Steve's blindspot. It kind of terrified him.

"Steve's _hurt,_ Samson. That's not the kind of thing I joke around about."

"It's not that bad, I--"

"He had me take his boots off for him."

Steve looked betrayed, but Sam whistled, low and concerned. "All right," Sam said, "any redness? Swelling?"

"Hang on," Bucky said. He reached for Steve's briefs, but Steve stepped back and pulled them off by himself, with an exaggerated show of dignity that almost covered the way he cringed in pain when he bent over.

He turned around and glared over his shoulder while Bucky examined him as thoroughly as possible from the vast distance of a few feet away.

The left side was maybe a little pinker than the right, but both sides were perfectly symmetrical, perfectly round, perfectly--

"How's it look?" Sam asked.

Bucky sighed, "Beautiful." He shook his head to clear it as Steve rolled his eyes. "It, uh, it looks normal. Seemed like it hurt when he leaned down though."

"Well, make him rest, ice it down, all that good stuff. I'd think about x-rays, except..."

"Yeah, probably safer not to go out in this weather," Bucky said. He pulled an instant cold pack out of his dresser drawer and popped the seal on it to get it activated. Keeping them in their bedroom was maybe not normal, but neither was spending an hour at a time getting bashed up on the ice, and they sure as hell didn't want to hobble all the way to the kitchen after a rough game. He wrapped it in an old t-shirt and waved Steve toward the bed.

"What the hell were you doing out there in the first place Steve-o?" Sam asked.

Steve stopped in the process of climbing onto the bed and dropped his face against the mattress with a tiny groan.

"He was helping out a neighbor," Bucky answered for him, leaving out the part where the neighbor in question had four paws and didn't actually need help. He gently set the ice pack in place and braced it with a pillow on one side.

"That is awfully fucking vague," Sam said. "Why do I feel like there's a story there? You know, as team captain, I think I need--"

"Sorry Sam," Bucky interrupted, "there's some iced buns here that need my attention, I gotta go."

"Yeah, yeah. Take care of him Barney."

If Sam was chirping and using nicknames, he must not be too worried. Bucky felt the tight ache of tension in his stomach ease a little, and without thinking he said, "I always do."

Sam made a noncommittal 'Hmm' noise.

Bucky deserved that. He knew he did. But he didn't like being reminded, so he grumbled, "I'll text you if anything changes," and hung up before Sam could reply.

Steve shifted higher up on the bed and gave Bucky a soft, steady look, like he knew what Bucky was thinking and he didn't agree with it.

Well. Whatever.

Bucky put the cold pack and the pillow back in place, because Steve had knocked them loose when he'd moved, and he patted Steve's thigh, because it was there and he was allowed.

Steve twisted around. "Really though? 'Iced buns'?"

Bucky chuckled and planted a kiss on the uninjured side of Steve's ass and murmured against it, "So sweet and so cold."

Steve turned away, and his voice was all muffled when he said, "You're ridiculous."

"Am not. It's so beautiful babe. Like a perfect fuckin' peach. Look at that."

"Jesus Bucky..." The back of Steve's neck had turned pink, the blush disappearing under the collar of his shirt, and if Bucky wasn't otherwise occupied, he'd have tried to chase it with his lips.

Instead he slid his hand over the curve of Steve's hip. "How can you be so goddamn shy when we spend half our lives in a locker room?"

"Nobody in the locker room's comparing any of my body parts to ripe fruit."

"Ohh, am I allowed to do other body parts now? Because those melons of yours--"

"No! Absolutely not."

"All right, all right." Bucky dropped his head onto the small of Steve's back and brushed his fingertips back and forth over the swell of his ass. "Really are beautiful, you know. Every bit of you."

"Come up here," Steve said.

"Why?"

"'Cause I love you."

Bucky sat up immediately and twisted around, lying down so close that their noses were nearly brushing together. "Wouldja look at that. This end is just as pretty as the other one."

Steve rolled his eyes, with a soft little smile on his lips.

"So gorgeous, sweetheart." Bucky brushed his finger along the cupid's bow of Steve's lips so he wouldn't get interrupted. "They oughta write poems about your mouth. It's a cotton candy dream, baby. Sweetest thing I ever saw. They oughta make sculptures of that little crook in your nose. Sing songs about the crinkles around your eyes, and the way they show up when you smile, like a goddamn gift. As if making you happy wasn't gift enough. You're a fucking miracle, sugar. Never get enough of you."

Bucky's eyes caught on the little cluster of scars along Steve's eyebrow.

The scars Bucky had put there.

The reason Sam still didn't quite trust him.

Steve had a whole list of excuses lined up for Bucky. They'd been on opposing teams. It was the playoffs. Hockey is a physical sport. Injuries happen.

Bucky didn't accept any of them. It should never have happened. Winning wasn't worth that. Nothing was worth that.

Steve was hardly the first player he'd hurt. That wasn't what made the difference. They hadn't been friends. They hadn't even met each other off the ice.

It was the way Steve looked at him as it happened. They'd played a good clean game until then, it had even been fun, but Bucky had his orders and--

Resignation. Disappointment. Understanding.

Bucky had gotten a two game suspension and a twenty-five thousand dollar fine, and for the first time, he let himself acknowledge that it wasn't enough. Not for what he'd done. He'd gone home hating himself, hating what he'd become.

The next day the press said he was 'feral'. He didn't usually read the news about himself, but Coach had put that one up on the screen at the next practice. So fucking pleased that Bucky'd acted like an animal.

Feral.

An ironic description when he felt like he was on a leash.

It took two more years for his contract to run out, most of it spent on the bench. Seemed he'd 'lost his edge' somehow, despite all the 'encouragement' he got from his teammates.

Nobody expected him to end up with the Avengers, who were known for discipline and fair play. Natasha was a damn good agent, though. She knew exactly who to talk to, and it was Steve who eventually convinced Coach Fury to take a chance on Bucky.

It was more than he deserved. All of it was so much more than he deserved.

Steve nudged Bucky out of those memories, catching his hand and gently kissing each of his fingertips.

"Your heart's pretty perfect too," Bucky murmured. "Big enough it even has room for an asshole like me."

"Lovin' you is the easiest thing in the world, Buck," Steve said in that way he had, earnest and natural and so damn sure.

Bucky had never been much good at sincerity. He usually sounded like a smartass. He usually _was_ a smartass. And there were some things he didn't say nearly often enough. He traced the curve of Steve's cheekbone with his thumb. "Love you."

Steve's eyes got all those crinkles around them again, smiling so bright and beautiful, and he was going to say something, but Bucky beat him to it.

"Love you in a thousand ways Stevie. With my whole ugly heart. Sometimes I can't hardly believe you're real, I love you so much."

Steve pulled him in roughly but kissed him oh so sweetly, fingers wrapping in his hair, keeping him close while he brushed their lips together and licked delicately at his mouth.

"Love you," Bucky whispered between kisses, needing him to know.

"Bucky," Steve whispered back. He slipped his hand up under Bucky's shirt, right against the middle of his chest. "It's beautiful Buck. This heart is beautiful. It's yours and it's--"

He stopped, because Bucky's goddamn evil fucking phone was buzzing on the bed beside them.

If he had the ability to light things on fire by glaring at them, then he would have reduced his phone to a crumbling cinder right that second, but instead he suppressed a whine when Steve took his hand away to grab the damned thing.

Well, mostly suppressed.

But neither of them had the kind of impulse control that would let them leave a text unopened for long, so he waited while Steve read the new message.

"You're not allowed to throw Sam off the nearest cliff," Steve said very seriously. He pulled Bucky around so his back was tight against Steve's chest before he went on. "I'm gonna do the throwing. But you can help carry him up there."

He held out the phone so they could both see it.

Sam's message said, _'You do know what I meant by make him rest, right?'_

Bucky wriggled back so they were snug together from shoulders to ankles. "I don't think there are any cliffs in Brooklyn. Let's shave off his eyebrows instead."

They hadn't replied, and Sam sent another message. _'You don't need me to explain that you two can't get nasty.'_

"Cling wrap his car closed," Steve said. "While he's in it."

Sam sent a big red X and an eggplant emoji.

Bucky said, "Get married, just so that we can not invite him."

It was a stupid joke, and before he even finished, he wished he hadn't made it. He wished--

"Center ice, right after the game," Steve said with a laugh in his voice. "We'll get Thor to keep Sam in the locker room."

Bucky swallowed. "No, we should...Did you know they rent out parts of the Met? For events?"

Steve slowly set the phone on the bed and asked carefully, "Why the art museum?"

The phone buzzed again, but neither of them moved to check it.

Just as carefully, Bucky said, "It's your favorite place, right?"

"Yeah. It is." Steve slipped his arm around Bucky's waist and nuzzled at his shoulder. "I'd wear my ring on a chain, so I could take it out and give it a kiss before every game."

"That's good," Bucky said, which was one hell of an understatement, but he was having a little difficulty finding words while he was trying not to shake to pieces. "Yeah, me too. Keep it close."

Steve slid his hand up to the middle of Bucky's chest, right over his heart, and Bucky pressed it tight against him and nodded.

He turned around. He'd never seen this kind of wonderment on Steve's face before, and he wished he'd looked sooner. "I love you."

"I love you," Steve whispered back.

Bucky's phone buzzed, three times in rapid succession.

Bucky sighed. "Sam still can't be your best man though."

"Thor then," Steve said quickly. "Is Thor okay, or would you rather--"

"I was kidding. About Sam, not...We're really gonna do this, aren't we?"

Steve's bright smile was the best answer, and he said, "Yeah Buck. I think we really are."

**********

They really did.

The team's new owner, Tony Stark, helped secure the venue, and Coach Fury performed the ceremony.

Everyone came. It was the greatest wedding ever, watching their enormous teammates tiptoe around the marble sculptures. Watching the soft look in Steve's eyes. Holding his hand. Saying "I do."

It was beautiful. It was _perfect._

And Sam was not Steve's best man.

They had finally called him back, after a fair amount of kissing, and told him the news, and he was quiet for a long moment.

"Sam, I'll take care of him," Bucky said, his voice sounding a lot steadier than he felt.

Steve took his hand. "You always do."

"You always _will,"_ said Sam.

Bucky could appreciate the distinction, even if Steve seemed annoyed. "Yeah. I always will."

So Sam wasn't Steve's best man.

He was Bucky's.


End file.
